Simply A Chance Meeting
by Josiecat
Summary: A girl meets a very unusual boy...
1. Where She Was Coming From

Standard issue disclaimer…I do not own any of the characters from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show".  Those that believe otherwise should now stop flooding my e-mail box with lucrative endorsement offers (Frank as the New Face of Estee Lauder?  I don't think so…)

The young woman walked down Main Street in the small town of Denton, her mood as dark and dreary as the overcast sky.  Her bright red, short-cropped hair drew occasional stares of disapproval from passing townsfolk, but she paid no attention.  She didn't expect to be accepted by those people anyway.  She never had been before…why should anything change now?

She thought her problems started with the moment her name went on her birth certificate.  _Columbia.  _What the hell kind of a name was _that _for a young girl living in a small, conservative Midwest town?  Other children were named for a parent, or a close relative…she was named for the country her parents had, for some odd reason, decided to visit for their honeymoon.  It was a strange name then, and with the advent of the counterculture of the 60s – and the country of Columbia's association with the drug trade - it only got worse.  It didn't help matters that her parents, who were "hippies" before there even _was _such a thing, became enthusiastic consumers of the cash crops for which Columbia was famous.

It might not have been so bad if they'd lived in a place like San Francisco, or maybe the Pacific Northwest…somewhere with an active counterculture.  Unfortunately, for reasons Columbia couldn't begin to understand, her parents wanted to stay in Denton, the birthplace they'd derided for as long as she could remember.

She'd tried to make the best of it.  She really had.  If Columbia had one wish in life, it was to be just like everyone else.  From her earliest school days, she'd done her very best to fit in…to act and dress like the schoolmates who came from traditional families and lived "normal" lives.  But no matter how hard she tried, something was always just a little wrong.  Her dresses were either too long or two short, her pants either too tight or too baggy, her hair either too straight or (after an ill-advised perm) too frizzy.  More important than her appearance, however, was the air of anxiety she just couldn't suppress.  Her desperation to be liked was so obvious it was practically visible to the naked eye, and rather than bring her friends, it brought her ridicule.

She had hoped things would improve once she escaped the hell that was high school.  Her guidance counselor had told her, with a remarkable mixture of pity and condescension, that she was not "college material."  That she already knew; she just didn't have a head for academics.  After barely managing to graduate from high school, three years ago now, she went to work in a local record store.  It was then that she cut and dyed her hair, in homage to the "glam rock" movement – her first genuine attempt at self-expression at the expense of normality.  While working at the record store was better than school, she hadn't been able to bond with her fellow employees, most of whom were still high school students.  Worse than that was the knowledge the job was a dead end.  Somehow she needed to change her life, but she was at a loss as to how to do it.

Consumed by these melancholy thoughts, she barely noticed the buildings and people surrounding her…until she happened to look over at the low brick wall running between two groups of shops.  Sitting on the wall, taking in the sight of the people passing by with an apparent mixture of amusement and ennui, was the most incredibly attractive young man Columbia had ever seen in her life.  Looking to be at most only three or four years older than Columbia herself, there was an air of sophistication about him that made him seem much more mature than his years…a sense that he'd been everywhere, seen and done everything, and was startled by nothing.  Clad entirely in black – t-shirt, leather pants and pin-studded motorcycle jacket – he wasn't handsome in the typical Denton boy-next-door kind of way. He looked more like a rock god.

With a surge of excitement, Columbia remembered her store was to be the site of an appearance that very afternoon by a local band called Silent Running, which had just released its first album.  She'd never seen them, but knew their lead singer was supposed to be gorgeous.  Maybe that was him!  It would be so cool if she could meet him "one on one," before everyone else could crowd around and shove her to her usual place in the background. 

So engrossed was she in her fantasy of becoming the girlfriend of an up-and-coming rock star that, unfortunately, she failed to notice a telephone pole looming in front of her.  Even more unfortunately, she walked right into it in plain view of the maybe-rock-star, knocking herself onto the pavement in the process.  Tears of mortification filled her eyes; she would have gladly given everything she possessed to be able to vanish instantly from his sight.

Fate, however, had different plans for her.  The young man abandoned his perch on the wall and walked over, holding out his hand to help her rise.  She took the outstretched hand and got to her feet, keeping her eyes glued to the ground in her humiliation.  However, the desire to see him close up quickly overrode her embarrassment, and she raised her eyes to look at his face.

He smiled, stared right into her eyes, and winked.  As she returned his gaze, she suddenly felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, think or even breathe.  Nobody had ever had such an effect on her.  It was as if nothing…her job, her family, even time itself…meant anything anymore.  How was he able to do that to her?

And, more importantly…how could she, of all people, manage to have the same effect on him?


	2. Where He Was Coming From

Frank N. Furter was bored.

If there was one thing he loathed, it was boredom.  He didn't feel like doing any experiments.  He didn't feel like reading.  He didn't feel like listening to music.  He didn't even feel like doling out chores to Riff Raff and Magenta…indeed, he wasn't in the mood to so much as lay eyes on either one of them.

If only there were _someone_ living with him in the castle besides the two sullen servants.  He wanted someone who would appreciate his brilliance; someone who would have sex with him at his whim; someone who wouldn't be assertive enough to make tedious demands for monogamy…and, last but not least, someone who would leave him alone when he so desired.  

Considering his list of requirements for a housemate, it was obvious he wasn't looking for anyone overloaded with self-esteem.  Frank smiled to himself; he had enough self-esteem for several people.  He decided to head to downtown Denton to "scout out" the populace.  Frank could be almost eerily perceptive about people when he wanted to be; if the sort of person he was seeking crossed his path, he was confident he would pick up on it.

Naturally, what to wear for this outing was a matter of considerable importance.  He was, of course, well aware that his usual attire was completely out of the question.  However, neither did he have any interest in looking like a typical young male Dentonite, even if he were capable of it.  Whomever he selected had to have an appreciation for the unconventional, a trait he would not be able to observe if he himself looked like a new Junior Chamber of Commerce member.  He shuddered at the very idea.

With those thoughts in mind, Frank headed for his bedchambers and opened his closet door.  In relatively short order, he selected what he considered to be the perfect ensemble for the task at hand – a black t-shirt, tight black leather pants and his beloved black leather motorcycle jacket.   It was sexy to those with the correct mindset, threatening enough to ward off the squares, yet not so dangerous that it was likely to get him arrested.  

He washed off his makeup, changed his clothes, and walked out of the castle without so much as a word to Riff Raff and Magenta.  He headed over to the vehicle Riff Raff had procured for their use, shaking his head as he did each time he saw the bloody thing.  A _pickup truck_, for god's sake.  It certainly wasn't Frank's style…which, in retrospect, was probably exactly why Riff Raff picked it out.  Frank sighed.  Nobody could approach Riff Raff's gift for passive-aggressive behavior.  It was probably his greatest talent.

Arriving downtown, Frank parked the hated truck and started strolling down the sidewalk.  As he expected, he received many looks from passersby.  Also as he expected, most of them looked positively scandalized.  Frank shook his head slightly and smiled to himself.  He would have _loved _to walk down the sidewalk in his usual garb and makeup.  If there was one thing Frank never shied away from, it was the opportunity to shock others.  

He decided he could better concentrate if he were to stay in one place.  He found a low brick wall, and settled down to do some serious people watching.  For the first half hour or so, the results were predictable.  Some people's facial expressions openly expressed their disapproval, although none dared to actually say anything to him.  Others studiously avoided looking at him.  Still others…mainly young women…obviously found him attractive, but were too shy, and too conventional, to even attempt to catch his eye.

Although there was some entertainment value in watching people's reactions to him, Frank was beginning to doubt he would find the type of person he was seeking.  He had never seen a more uniformly dull group of people in his life.  He was just about to give up when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a cute young woman with short, bright red hair making her slow way down the sidewalk.  It was the hair that made him think maybe, just maybe, she didn't fit into the mold of the typical citizen of Denton.  

He kept an eye on her, taking care to insure she didn't realize he was paying even the slightest attention to her progress.  Her facial expression and plodding gait suggested she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.  She certainly didn't give off an aura of self-confidence.  That, along with the hair, piqued his interest.

As he continued to seemingly ignore her, he saw her finally look over and notice him.  Again he smiled inwardly; she seemed positively electrified at the very sight of him.  So electrified, in fact, that she heedlessly walked straight into a telephone pole, knocking herself to the ground.

He got up, walked over to her, and helped her to her feet.  He could feel her hand trembling in his own.  When she finally raised her head to look at him, he could see the flame of attraction flickering in her eyes.  He smiled and winked at her, and the trembling increased.

Yes, indeed.  He definitely needed to talk to this girl. 


	3. An Increasingly Close Encounter

Before Frank could say anything, Columbia blurted out, "Are you in Silent Running?"

Frank stared at her, raising an eyebrow both at the inscrutable question, and at her almost impossibly cartoonish voice.  Hearing _that _sound echoing around the castle could get old very, very quickly.  However, since in all other respects she seemed to be exactly what he was looking for, he decided to stick around a while longer.  He answered her the only way he knew how…well, the only way he knew how _if_ he wanted to be polite.

"I beg your pardon?"

With those few words, Columbia quickly realized this was no local boy.  Wow, he sounded kind of like the Rolling Stones or the Beatles when they talked, only classier!  She melted at his accent and the rich sound of his voice; she could listen to him all day long.

"Oh, sorry.  Silent Running is a rock band that'll be at my record store this afternoon.  You look just like a rock star, so I thought maybe you were in the band."

He laughed.  "I suppose I should take that as a compliment.  I do enjoy singing, as it happens, but that isn't what I do for a living."  He paused a moment.  "Are you quite sure you're all right?  You already have a rather nasty bump on your forehead.  Why don't we go over to the wall and sit down?" 

"I'm okay, really."  However, she allowed him to lead her to the wall.  There was no way she'd give up the chance to sit and talk with him. 

Once they were settled, Columbia asked, "What's your name?"

"Frank.  And yours?"

She answered reluctantly, looking away as she did so.  She just _hated _that question.  "Columbia."  She snuck a look back at him to see his reaction.

To her relief, he seemed to take it in stride.  "Columbia.  That's a lovely name."

She shrugged.  "You think so?  I always thought it was kinda strange, myself.  My parents are…weird.  I wanted a normal name, not one everyone would make fun of.  I just wanted to be like everyone else."  

He smiled.  "_Not_ being like everyone else isn't necessarily a bad thing, you know."

_Maybe if you're gorgeous and sure of yourself, it isn't a bad thing.  It's different for people like me.  _However, she wasn't about to humiliate herself by telling him all the indignities she'd suffered throughout her life.  She decided to turn the conversation away from herself, and back to him.  "You said you don't make your living by singing.  If you aren't a rock star, what _are _you?"

Frank had to suppress his laughter at the very idea of the many possible answers he could give to that question.  Of course, for the time being he needed to settle on the most innocuous one.  "I'm a scientist, actually."

Columbia stared at him, dumbfounded.  "Dressed like _that_??  Anyway, you aren't old enough!"

This time Frank _did _laugh.  "Well, I don't dress like this in the laboratory." _Never mind how I do __dress, he thought.  "As for my age, I come from a rather wealthy family, and was privately tutored for much of my childhood.  I was able to move ahead in my studies more quickly than if I'd been enrolled in school."_

Columbia looked downcast.  "You must be really smart."

Frank shrugged.  "One could say that.  However, almost everyone is 'smart' about _something that interests them."  He looked at her keenly.  "What are __you 'smart' about?"_

She looked, if possible, even more downcast at his question.  "Nothing, if you wanna believe my old teachers and guidance counselor."

At this, even Frank couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her.  "Academic achievement and intelligence aren't necessarily the same thing.  There must be _something for which you have aptitude and interest."_

She cocked her head at him.  "Huh?"

Frank tried to keep from rolling his eyes.  Perhaps her teachers and guidance counselor _were on the right track.  "You must be good at __something.  What do you enjoy doing?"_

"Oh."  She was silent a moment.  "Well, I like to dance."

"What kind of dancing?"

She smiled eagerly.  "Tap dancing.  It's _so much fun!  And I love the sound it makes."_

Frank suppressed a groan.  _Tap dancing.  Between her voice and the tapping, he'd probably be driven completely insane.  Oh, well, the castle was huge.  Surely he could find a room where she could dance without annoying the hell out of him.  The ballroom wasn't used often.  Yes, that should work._

Gamely, he soldiered on.  "You said you work in a record store.  You must enjoy music as well."

She nodded.  "Oh, yeah, I _love music.  My favorite is David Bowie.  Especially as Ziggy Stardust.  He looked __so sexy in that makeup!"_

Frank smiled.  _Bingo!  He reached out and ran his fingers gently through her hair.  "Does that explain your choice of hair color?"_

For a moment, Columbia was too engrossed in enjoying the sensation of his fingers running through her hair to even realize he'd asked her a question.  Finally, her brain unlocked and was able to process what he'd said.  She was delighted he'd made the connection.  "Yup!  I thought about getting it cut the same way he wore it, too, but I didn't think it would look good on me."

Frank moved his hand from her hair, and started caressing her cheek.  "I like your hair just as it is.  It suits you."  Much to his surprise, he was being honest.  Columbia wasn't beautiful in a conventional sense, but there was something innately attractive about her.  The haircut was a perfect reflection of her unique type of beauty.

Columbia tried to thank him, but couldn't get past her disbelief over what was happening.  This man…young, wealthy, brilliant and incredibly sexy…actually seemed interested in her.  Right now, at this very minute, he was touching her, and it was a glorious feeling.  Forgotten were the people probably watching them in disapproval; forgotten were the taunts from schoolmates; forgotten were the snubs from co-workers.  All she could think about was him.

Frank was thinking about _her, too, although his thoughts were considerably more complex.  All right, so there were some potential problems.  Her voice was grating.  Her lack of intellect would undoubtedly bore him before too long.  Her tap dancing didn't even bear thinking about.  Most importantly, her neediness practically screamed out to him.  She would probably want to attach herself to him like a barnacle…a red-haired, squeaky-voiced barnacle._

However, there were quite a few points in her favor as well.  She seemed to lack the backbone to even attempt to "lay down the law" to him about his behavior.  She might not like his taking on other lovers, but almost certainly would come to grudgingly accept it.  She would likely not only accept his clothing and makeup, but actually find them attractive.  And, Frank admitted to himself, there was an innocence and sweetness about her he found appealing.  Those qualities were most definitely in short supply on Transsexual.

There was just one other consideration…what she would be like in bed.  With years of vast experience behind him, Frank could tell from those all-important first kisses whether or not someone would be a good lover.  It was time to put her to the test.

He stopped caressing her cheek, and brushed his index finger lightly over her lips.  Removing his finger, he leaned over and gently kissed her.

Leaning back, he looked into her face.  The expression of shock quickly gave way to a broad smile.  The flame of desire he'd seen in her eyes when they first met was now a roaring fire, and suddenly the giggly girl was gone.  In her place was a sensual young woman.

Columbia may have never found acceptance, either in school or thereafter, but that didn't mean she was a virgin.  Quite the contrary…she'd had more lovers than even the most popular girls in school.  It was the same old story – an insecure young girl, looking for love, hoped to find it by giving her body to any boy who showed any interest in her.  On some level, she realized the only reason boys went after her was because their girlfriends refused to give in to their sexual demands, and they knew Columbia wouldn't turn them down.  The sex, too, was unremarkable.  She couldn't remember ever receiving any true satisfaction or pleasure from any of her partners.  However, the fact that her strategy had never worked before didn't dim her hope that someday it might.

She told herself _this time it was different.  Frank wasn't some loser high school kid; he was smart and rich and certainly able to get anyone he wanted.  And unlike all those who preceded him, he __really turned her on.  For the very first time, she wanted the sex almost as much as she wanted love.  Heck, if he wanted to have sex with her right on this wall, she probably wouldn't refuse him._

Almost instinctively, she reached out, pulled his face to hers and gave him a passionate kiss.  The kiss deepened as they remained locked together, oblivious to everyone and everything around them.  Two or three equally hungry kisses followed in quick succession.  When at last they broke apart, she laid her head on his chest and nestled against him, happier than she'd ever been in her life.

Frank gently stroked her hair as he considered the situation.  Based on those kisses, it was obvious he'd stumbled onto something besides tap dancing she would be good at.  It was equally obvious she was his for the taking.  He finally concluded, despite his misgivings, she was as perfect a match as he could hope to find in this backward little town.

He pulled back slightly from her, turning her to face him.  "Columbia, come home with me."

Her first impulse was to wrap herself around him and gleefully shout her acceptance for the whole world – or at least the whole street – to hear.  She didn't want him to think she was "easy," however, so she murmured, "But I have to be at work in a few minutes."

Frank recognized this response as the face-saving maneuver it was.  He smiled, took her in his arms and gave her yet another achingly intimate kiss, this time putting his hand up underneath her jacket and shirt to caress her bare back.  She moaned at the contact of his hand with her skin.  Breaking the kiss, he nibbled her earlobe and purred in her ear, "I can make it well worth your while to miss out on Silent Running."

After that, she was no longer capable of putting up even token resistance.  To hell with her job, her family and everything else.  All she could think about was making love with him.  She smiled and whispered, "Let's go."

As they walked toward the truck, their arms around each other, Columbia thought, _I've finally met the man who will set me free._

Frank thought, _I can make her a slave to my love._

They were both right…yet wrong.

Dead wrong.       


End file.
